The StewartTudors
by TheTudorDynasty
Summary: What if Henry the VIII coquered Scotland? Will Anne get their heir? Is it the end of Cromwell? Please R & R! Would love some ideas! Have written chapter 1. Enjoy!
1. Introduction

**The Stewart-Tudors**

Henry the VIII, King of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. What if Henry _was_ the King of Scotland? Would the country be different in the 21st Century...?

It was late and the King found himself alone in his chambers considering the offer of King Francis. Is he willing to let his true heir, Elizabeth, be betrothed to the idiot's son? Anne wanted a betrothal, an allegiance to France but he, Henry, King of the British Isles did not want it. After the way he was betrayed by Francis! He was a tyrant and he never kept his word! Maybe an invasion would show the King who ruled this side of Europe. As he changed he called Anne to him.

"Anne, do you think that I should invade France again? The man swore to me, he swore to be my brother and to be strong against the Emperor! He betrayed my trust and he slandered me to his people, to the Emperor and to that bastard Paul III!

"My Darling Henry, Elizabeth has had another offer of betrothal. Germany, you _will_ rule Europe until your last breath my love, you are the true Lord and master of this Kingdom and you are loved by your people, more than any King ever has been in all of Europe and the world! Do you care if France has Catholics?"

"Of course I care you stupid woman!! I am Henry! If France does not see my authority, I will make them, as I made Scotland and James see it!!" At this Anne massaged his shoulders and whispered to him, "you are my true prince and you will never be challenged again."

Anne took off his shirt and they began to kiss in the candlelit chambers. Anne thought to herself, "tonight will be the night I conceive a son..."

"Is it true then?" Anne cried to Thomas More.

Bewildered, More replied standing and bowing to the Queen "Is what true Majesty?"

"That we are being spied upon by Ambassador Chapuys?"

"Majesty, I have not heard any rumour... Or indeed seen the Ambassador for two weeks. I must apologise for my ignorance Madam, but who told you this?"

Anne looked at More with an undignified sneer and replied curtly, "your friend dear Mr. Cromwell. Who else wishes me distress at this crucial time? I will have my way, mark my words, he will be gone within the month." At that Anne turned on her heel and walked out without even an apology. Such was her way of making her point made.

The Queen was about to call her ladies to play some cards when she heard a smart rap on the door. "Who'd be calling at this hour?" She thought to herself.

Authors Note: Introductory chapter. Please read and review! Should I continue with this story? Chapter one is done.


	2. Chapter 1

**The Stewart-Tudors**

The Knock in the night

Anne looked up from her card deck, alarmed that there should be someone calling at this hour. Had something happened to Henry? George? Perhaps her Father? Or heaven forbid Mary?

"Madge get off your backside and answer the door! What are you employed here for?"

Madge answered rather tentatively, "yes Your Majesty, sorry Your Majesty."

As Madge answered the door she was surprised to see a man wearing nothing but a cloth robe and old travelling sandals. She asked him what he wanted with the Queen. He was quiet for a moment and answered, "I'm to be the Queen's musician and poet. My name is Jonathan Wilkes. I was sent by Thomas Cromwell. My apologies to Your Majesty."

Anne took a second to adjust herself. She looked the man over and dismissed her Ladies. She asked him to wash and change before he was to come and entertain her. "You will find suitable attire and come back. Goodness knows what I could catch from you."

Anne turned back to her cards and dealt them without a second glance at the foul beast at her chamber door.

The Queen heard a distinct prayer in Latin coming from the man, "Deus indulgeo mihi, addo misericordia in sua animus..." "God forgive me, pray Mercy on her soul." Anne was just turning to tell him not to be silly; she understood he had travelled far, when the blade struck her back.

Henry was at the bed when she woke up. The Physician had just told him she was unlikely to survive the wound. Idiocy, Henry thought. She was Queen Anne of England she would never die while with child. It would be a sin against God and him if she did. He turned to the Physician and growled,

"Get out of here and do not return. You almost killed my child and my Queen. You are dismissed from court. If you show your face here again I will have you boiled alive, do you understand?"

"Cromwell, get a better physician, one who will not predict my wife's death every time she is injured!"

Cromwell stood for a moment, looking shocked.

"Now!"

He went, bowing to his Majesty, and promising to find the best physician in England. Thomas Knew it was only a matter of time before the Harlot was disposed of and the true Queen to return to her rightful place by the King's side. Elizabeth would never see the throne if he had anything to do with it. Neither would the bastard residing in her womb. The physician had said she was with child again. How he prayed it would be deformed or if God willed it, dead before birth.

Henry was in the Queen's chambers discussing the child within her womb and asking her to pray the knife had not struck it. Henry was a too preoccupied with the King of France to be worrying about such trivial matters, there was a war to be fought, ships, grand ships, to be built and equipped. He needed his army to be prepared for a long bloody battle. They were weary from the battle just fought to gain Scotland from the Stewarts. They weren't even pure of heart or soul! They needed a true leader to inspire them. James the V was out of the way safely tucked into the Tower. It won't be long, he thought dreamily, ignoring the irritating chirrup of Anne behind him. She would never understand the meaning of his, Henry the VIII's true Greatness.

As Henry dictated to Cromwell he played with the dagger Elizabeth had presented to him, he thought himself lucky to have a secretary. He could never be bothered with this rubbish! Writing letters, treaties and the like. He said to Cromwell;

"Is it true you ordered the Musician and Poet to Anne? Jonathan Wilkes?"

Cromwell was taken aback.

"No Majesty, I didn't send anyone for the Queen. She must be lying!"

Henry sprang over to Thomas, holding the dagger to his throat.

"No Mr. Cromwell, you are the liar. The Queen's guards caught up with him. We didn't even need to torcher it out of him. He admitted to us that you sent for him. You also made his papers up for him. Now Thomas, before I decide to cut your unworthy neck, would you like to tell the truth?"

"Guards!"

"Majesty, I didn't order him to kill Her Majesty only injure her enough so she would not interfere in Your Majesty's business. You yourself said you didn't want any interruptions during this _other_ Great Matter. "

As Cromwell said this the King looked thunderstruck. There was not an ounce of remorse in neither his voice nor his face. The King held up his hand to halt the guards and whispered threateningly to Cromwell "If I find out you have harmed my wife and your Queen again, you will have more than a puncture in your neck. Do I make myself clear?"

At that the King dug the knife tip into Cromwell's neck and said;

"Let that be a warning to all who continue to defy me and my Queen. It is high treason! Do you know the punishment for high treason in _my_ Kingdom? You certainly should by now. Do you understand?"

There were mutterings of "Yes Your Majesty" all around the room.

At that the King turned to the door and stormed out, leaving the guards and his men in waiting bewildered.

Thomas More sat in his office checking and re-checking the ledger of His Majesty's accounts and possessions. It was past midnight and he had been at it for nearly seven hours. The last Chancellor of the Ex-Chequer was the Boleyn girls' father. There were such discrepancies that he had never seen before in all his years of service to the King. He called his men to contact Thomas Boleyn immediately and to rouse him from his bed.

"Sir, it is nearing one o'clock in the morning. Boleyn will never answer his chamber door at this hour."

"I don't care," Thomas said aggravated, "get him from his chamber immediately. I don't care if you have to break the door down. Bring him to me."

At that the men hurried to Boleyn's Chamber, knocked and banged, until finally, Boleyn started to shout about the hour of the morning and how he was not a servant to be roused whenever the King wanted him. He answered the door after a time and was surprised to see four uniformed guards with summons at it.

"What do you want at this God forsaken hour? I'm trying to sleep!"

"Sir Thomas Boleyn, you have been summoned to Sir Thomas More, by command of His Majesty, the King. Come with me."

"Wha... what is this? What is going on, I demand you tell me!"

"You'll be making no demands tonight Boleyn," said the common-sounding man to his right. "The King will have your head for this."

As Boleyn and the guards approached Thomas Mores' office, the door swung inwards, admitting the five men. Thomas Mores' desk sat piled high with many scrolls of parchment and book littered around him. "I recognise those," thought Boleyn aloud.

"Yes I'd imagine you do Thomas."

Boleyn started at the voice; he had not noticed Sir Thomas in the corner of the darkened, gloomy room.

"Sir, I'm sorry I don't understand why you needed four guards to escort me to your office. If you'd written I would gladly have come to help you look these over." Boleyn sounded under-confident and had a shake in his voice.

"Mr. Boleyn, as I'm sure you are aware, I am perfectly capable of sorting the King's accounts out. Only, I was under the impression you misunderstood them, would that be correct?

"Sir, I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about, I..." He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence.

Author's Note: Hey everyone. This is my first chapter. Please R & R. Would like to hear opinions etc. Any changes, suggestions or complaints let me know!

Looking for a Beta reader if interested let me know!


	3. Chapter 2

**The Stewart-Tudors**

**As this is only my 2****nd**** chapter, I would love more reviews and any advice. This story is completely fictional and doesn't depict any actual events (that I know of!) This is just a story so please no rude criticism due to the slightly taboo subject of English rule over Scotland in the 16****th**** Century! Enjoy!**

**Will be starting a new story on a different part of the site soon!!!!**

**Boleyn's Betrayal.**

Thomas More sat with his head in his hands. How would he explain this to the King? He stretched and cracked his neck as he tried to compose himself. He would deal with him in the morning. Just now he had to figure out what to do with Boleyn. He left his darkening chambers and went to seek out Cromwell; he would know what to do. He'd dealt with these situations numerable times. As he walked the corridors he'd walked so many times before he realised with a pang of guilt, he may never see them again. If his Majesty desired Boleyn dead he would be fine, possibly even congratulated and promoted if not however, he shuddered to think. His footsteps slowed as he approached Cromwell's door. He had a moment of reluctance as he entered the outer chambers.

Cromwell was reading over the latest attempt at the New Act of Succession, he didn't want the whore's bastards to become anything other than beggars, thieves or murderers. He tried and tried to set a loophole or two so his Majesty would never find out but this, he found, was a task greater than writing the damn Act itself! The King was not unintelligent; he was Cromwell's intellectual equal. Never has there been a King as open minded or clever; he hated it. He had put the parchment aside and rubbed his eyes, it was defiantly time to sleep. He washed and changed and as he clambered into the depth and oblivion of his bed there was a gentle knock at his privy chamber door.

As Thomas entered he saw Cromwell very much awake and looking rather uncomfortable. He was in his sleeping clothes after all, he, Thomas, would probably be the same. Men as professional and high up rarely saw their counter parts in bed clothes. Thomas spoke in hushed tones.

"Mr. Cromwell, there is a dead man on my office floor would you kindly assist me in trying to remove him?" He said this as if asking to use a piece of parchment

Cromwell didn't reply instantly, there was a small flash of arrogance, or was it fear, in the man's eyes. Cromwell sat up straight and replied with equal nonchalance that he would get dressed and help.

Thomas let out the breath he didn't realise he was holding.

"Thank you Chancellor."

At that Thomas walked out into the cool hallways and proceeded back to his chambers.

Henry was awake before dawn. He was sweating profusely and panic almost overwhelmed him. He couldn't possibly have the Sweating Sickness! As he became aware of himself and his surroundings he got a sudden but vivid flash of, something, he didn't know what. Then there was another, more clear than the first and it stayed imprinted behind his eyes. It was Katherine, he had dreamed of Katherine. As he thought of her name the whole terrible nightmare flooded him. She was sick, very sick, she was in immense pain and she was writing her last Will and Testament, she was dictating a letter also. He could not hear what she said; however, he knew exactly what she was saying. A knock on the door snapped him from his paralysis.

"Yes, what is it?!" He yelled at the solid oak door. Thomas More entered, dishevelled and looked disturbed, scared almost.

"Majesty I have some terrible news, about Wiltshire."

Henry scanned his counsellor, fear and guilt were emanating off of him in waves. His counsellor hadn't slept yet, he could see the dark shadows under his eyes.

"Thomas, what is it? What happened to you? What happened to, _him_?" He finished his sentence with a hiss.

"Sir, Majesty, Thomas Boleyn is dead; and he is dead at my hand."

"Thomas, surely you can't mean that. You must have imagined it. You a man of God, kill someone? I think you are exhausted and sick of looking over my accounts. Let us go riding later?"

"Majesty, thank you for your request, but I must decline. I am telling the truth about Wiltshire he is dead, I killed him. Please Majesty can you forgive me before you sentence me?"

"Thomas, I will always forgive you, no matter what you do. You are dear to me. What happened with Wiltshire?" He spoke this last word with disdain and disgust. He loathed the man.

Thomas explained everything to Henry; from the accounts, to the knife, to Cromwell. He felt much better but it did not help his guilt. He had killed Thomas Boleyn, he had jeered, and then he plunged the knife into his abdomen. Thomas Boleyn died painfully and fully aware of his crimes against the King but it was not Thomas' place to punish or inflict pain to those who defied and belittled his Majesty; that lay solely with the King. He knew he had done wrong but he couldn't help it, Wiltshire was scum who charmed and bought his way to court. Anne was already here, Wiltshire did not impress her Majesty onto the King; she already had him.

Anne was scanning the Act of Succession with Cromwell at her shoulder. She liked what she read although she spotted some clear loopholes. Like how, if she fell out of favour with his Majesty, her children would be disowned, declared illegitimate and taken from the royal family tree and never see, or know, they were of royal descent. This irked her; Cromwell knew exactly what he was doing. She mused to herself; he must think I am a complete fool to not notice these glaringly obvious flaws. I am no fool and I will make it known to everyone in her Kingdom she isn't.

The sun was setting around the beautiful palace grounds. The white peacocks and magnificent, heady scent of the gardens got to him. He felt spontaneous and childish. It was like he was back in that wonderful childhood innocence again. He closed his eyes and sat on the warm grass. His boots were off and his collars loosened. He flopped lazily and let the warmth spread over his entirety. Oh_ how _he wanted to be in that pond again splashing with his brother and sister. He loved it here but he loved innocence and total lack of responsibility more.

"Ahem,"

The voice sounded so far away. It sounded like his mother. As he opened his eyes a beautiful woman came into sight, I'm dreaming, he thought lazily. The woman standing above him looked like an angel, a halo of light shimmering about her person. An aura of calm engulfed him.

"Charles Brandon, I expected more from you, not even getting up to acknowledge a princess."

At this Charles promptly stood up, bowed so low that he was almost doubled over, "Majesty I...."

She looked into his eyes and kissed him, there and then. He couldn't move, he was so intoxicated by this angel. He didn't know which princess he was kissing but he didn't care. He deepened the kiss. His angel, forever his angel.

.


End file.
